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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725006">Herostratic Fame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_cider/pseuds/strawberry_cider'>strawberry_cider</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arson, Bathing/Washing, Burn injuries, Caretaking, Crying, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, God Michael, Graphic Description, Growing Old Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, M/M, POV Alternating, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Recovery, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Self-Esteem Issues, Snippets, Spelling mistakes to be corrected later I’m tired, Trans Male Character, Whump, mortal Gerry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:16:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_cider/pseuds/strawberry_cider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Idiom<br/>- fame sought at any cost<br/>- after Herostratus, a 4th century BC arsonist who destroyed the temple of Artemis at Ephesus in order to immortalise his name</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Catharsis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The chat went wild with this one, so here it is friends<br/>Chapter one is exposition and some angst, and chapter two will be where the spicier content is<br/>Also I avoided saying their names because they don’t really fit in an ancient greek setting, but it turned out really cool like tis, I think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He watched the temple be engulfed by flames. The red and orange and yellow stood out proud against the ink-black night sky. Selene watched over the destruction, very pale white. People ran left and right in a panic, trying to put out the fire that was destroying their place of worship. The statue of Athena was cracking from the heat and crumbling to pieces, her helmet and sceptre falling pathetically on the marble floors. A giddy, childish pride bloomed in his chest as he regarded the scene playing before his eyes. All this fuss, thanks to him! </p><p>He grinned from ear to ear as he turned heel and ran away before anyone noticed him lurking in the dark, admiring his own creation. He ran with a smile on his lips as he thought of all the talk that was going to happen tomorrow, all the speculation and gossip over who did it, how could they do it. Everyone was going to talk about him, curse his name or perhaps even agree with him. He imagined Pallas Athena fuming in the cloudy peak of Mount Olympus, contemplating his demise. He wanted to laugh out loud, cruel and bratty, dare her to smite him then and there.</p><p> </p><p>The gods gathered round in their great hall. They could not believe what was happening. This mortal had no fear of them or of anything at all. He did not care about eternal punishment, or about their wrath turning towards him. He had nothing to lose but his life. He was going to set the whole world on fire if it meant defying the gods. If this went on, more mortals may follow his example. The gods would no longer have any sway on them. It was a possibility they did not want to consider happening, let alone see set in motion by even one individual.</p><p>What confused them the most was how he managed to escape them again and again. How did he do it? Was he receiving divine assistance? That's not possible. Why would a god betray their own kin?</p><p> </p><p>The wind was cold as he made his way to the city. He had to hurry, he was unpredictable. Although he did enjoy it greatly, it was getting harder and harder to cover up for him.</p><p>When he first laid eyes on him, he was putting a torch to his temple. He did not have many temples, he was a minor god. A very bad decision, he would not have survived it had it not been for the curiosity he sparked in him. His hair was wild and black. He must have dyed it in order to conceal his identity. His eyes were beautiful. He was young, but with lines on his face in advance of old age. He seemed rather scrawny, but he had witnessed first-hand that he was much stronger than he looked. He liked that. His eyebrows were thick and knit in concentration. His eyelashes were long. He couldn't stop looking at his eyes. His lips were pretty and twisted in a grimace. He must be doing that a lot, he had frown lines.</p><p>When the altar caught fire and the flames spread up the wall-hangings, his lips spread to reveal a toothy smile. It made the god blush. He ran out before he got caught by the destruction he himself caused. The temple burned down within minutes, but he could not bring himself to be angry. This was a mad man after his own heart.</p><p> </p><p>He was heading out again. The cold air made his skin prickle but he was used to it. People calmed down. They needed to be stirred again. He was going to burn an altar for Hera that night. She punished so many victims of her wretched husband, some her own children. She was the goddess of marriage and family, supposedly. Then again, he’s biased. He could not recall ever having a good time within his own family. Perhaps when his father was still around, but that was too long ago to remember. He couldn't remember what his father looked like. </p><p>There was no point in mourning. It wasn't going to bring him back and crying just made him feel sick. Arson was much more satisfying. It had actual results.</p><p> </p><p>He helped him from the side-lines. He had to be careful not to get both of them caught. One time he turned him into a crow, the same colour as his hair, and hid him for a day in a murder. Another time he turned him into a chrysanthemum, while he slept, and watched over him. He wondered what he dreamed about that night. The petals were almost as soft as his real skin. </p><p>He floated above the buildings, scanning the alleys for him. He saw the flicker of fire first. He decided to cut subtleties and confront him directly.</p><p> </p><p>He stumbled back as the golden-haired god flew to a stop before him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to his features. The fair eyebrows were knit together. He wanted to laugh. Here it comes, a moralizing tale.</p><p>“Mortal…” the god began in his high voice, words drawn-out as is his habit. “... what are you doing?”</p><p>“Nothing out of ordinary, your highness!” He said. He was awfully comfortable and cocky around a divine being. Perhaps he’s been too indulgent with him.</p><p>“Your mania is something that ought to make me proud.” The god said, calmly. “But I shall not stay put and watch you kill yourself.”</p><p>“You have no reason to worry, your grace.” The mortal smiled. “Worst case scenario, I die!”</p><p>The god’s frown deepened. He hated it when he spoke like that about himself.</p><p>“Why?” He asked.</p><p>The mortal blinked, not sure what he was referring to.</p><p>“Why do you do this?” The god continued, stepping closer, voice softer. “Why is it you have such a grudge against us? Which god has angered you so?”</p><p>He watched his beautiful eyes widen in surprise. There was something else behind them, something he hasn’t seen before. It was gone in an instant. His face twisted in anger and he shoved the god out of his way.</p><p>“Which god, you ask?” He said. “All of you!”</p><p> </p><p>Hera’s temple burned and burned. The air filled with the smell of burning wood and burning remnants of offerings, the last ones that temple would get. The wind howled and cut like ice as he made his way back to Olympus. Oh, Lady Hera was angry. And yet as he made his way through the splendid corridors of marble and diamond, to the drawing room where the Queen stood, she looked seemingly calm. Satisfied even. She sat in front of a fire-place, her silhouette black on a background of crackling amber. Next to Lady Hera stood Lady Hestia, the goddess of the hearth. He had a very bad feeling about this.</p><p> </p><p>The next fire bloomed much faster than he expected, much faster than it should have been possible. It spread on the walls, the floor, up his arm, across his body, across his vision. The gods are not to be messed with, and one cannot escape them forever. He felt his own fat boil and bubble. It hurt so much he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move to run away.</p><p>He couldn’t remember passing out. When he came to he was still alive. He was still in unbearable, white-hot pain. His vision was hazy. He could only vaguely make out a blonde head of hair and an expression of horror and worry. Oh, it’s him. He saved him? Oh, this will certainly get him in trouble.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His skin felt too tight to move. He needed help to walk. He needed help with everything. He hated it. He didn’t complain, neither of them did. There was no point. After all, he did it to himself. He didn’t complain before, it would have been stupid to start now.</p><p>His god offered him his own bed to sleep in and stain with flaking red flesh and popping blisters. He was hiding him in his own quarters. Who was playing a dangerous game now? If he had the energy to tease him, he would do it. The past few weeks - or months? He couldn't remember - passed in a blur of pain and unconsciousness. He grew to dread being awake. The gods are clever with their punishments. </p><p>His god helped him to a bathroom, which he was grateful for. He reeked. He was not too keen about being man-handled around, but he wasn’t in a position to argue, was he?</p><p> </p><p>The bathing chambers were white and turquoise marble. They may be his favourite room in the house. He held his mortal’s body up, helping him reach the edge of the pool.</p><p>“Be good now.” He said, helping him step into shallow waters. His mortal smiled and rolled his eyes.</p><p>The water wasn’t like what he was used to, certainly. He had tried washing his mortal before, in bed with a cloth, but it hurt. He said it felt like being on fire again. This bath should be kinder to him, and indeed it was. His mortal said he felt cold, but not in an unpleasant way. The god smiled, got in the water himself, and got to cleaning.</p><p> </p><p>His god soaked a wash-cloth and lightly moved it over his face, his free hand holding him up by his chin. The gesture would have infuriated him if it came from anyone else. His skin started peeling off and it was gross. He could hear bits and pieces fall off in the water as they got soft again.</p><p>His legs were getting tired fast, even with the aid of the pool at making him feel lighter. His god, without hesitation, pulled him close and supported his weight. It made his heart jump and feel warm, but he quickly shunned the emotion away. It must feel disgusting, his crispy self pressed against his pristine body.</p><p>He felt him pull his hair out of the way to wash his back. The fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, lightly scratching, made him shudder. He could swear he felt his god smile.</p><p>“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, trying to claim back some pride.</p><p>“Immensely.” His god said. His knees felt even weaker.</p><p> </p><p>He did a good job, if he did say so himself! His mortal’s skin looked red, but that was the new layer his body had made on its own. He <em>was</em> getting better. He would survive, although uncomfortably. That was where he came in.</p><p>All of Olympus thought he was dead, that he died in agony. They were glad of it. So much so that they accepted it at face-value. They didn’t dig deeper, ask for confirmation from Hades or Thanatos. They wanted to rejoice. Seeking confirmation had the risk of revealing the mortal was still very much alive, right under their noses too, their plan failed, they were fools. Nobody wanted that.</p><p>And so his mortal stood hidden in his chambers, slowly but surely being nursed back to health. Nobody would have looked for him there. They could barely look at the owner of the house without getting a headache. Not to brag, but he was also a pretty good liar.</p><p>He helped his dear mortal out of the bath and dried him up. The towels were stained with blood and pus. He patched him up with new and clean bandages and walked him back to bed. It may have been better to let the wounds breathe, but he had seen him, when he couldn’t sleep, stare at his burns with hate and grief. He thought hiding them from his sight may help him feel better.</p><p> </p><p>The god’s bedchambers were dark, every curtain drawn closed, and luxurious, beckoning for sleep. He let himself be led and lied on the large bed, covered in soft furs and silks. They would have felt amazing on bare skin right after a bath. He couldn’t hold back a pleasured sigh.</p><p>His god lied next to him, cupping his face in his hands and kissing his forehead. He could still feel the ghosts of his hands washing him. It made him feel embarrassed and almost ashamed, not because he didn’t like it, but because of how much he did. His god liked flustering him. </p><p> </p><p>His mortal was so beautiful, even like this. He didn't appreciate him from up-close enough before. He had to admit there was a little excitement whenever he had to dress him and bathe him. He wished he made a move faster, when he still could touch him without worrying it would make him wince.</p><p>He pushed the lustful thoughts away and focused on looking after him. His mortal was young, barely in his middle twenties. They had plenty of time to enjoy each-other's company, before and after he would get better. He already was, physically at least. Mentally… not so much….</p><p>He watched him twitch and jump in his sleep, sometimes wake up with a start and clutch at himself. Other times he stood awake all night, staring at the ceiling or a wall, silently crying. He never cried during the day, when he would be able to see it. </p><p>He took to holding him, gingerly, carefully. He allowed it when he was unconscious. Awake, he would stare at him with furrowed brows, baffled and almost annoyed at the signs of affection. If he held him while asleep, his tremors would calm down, and he could kiss his cheek and whisper reassurance in his ear. If he held him while awake, his tremors got worse and looked as though he was going to cry harder. Neither mentioned anything in the morning. He really wished his mortal were more affectionate, but he didn’t blame him. He wished he could hand-pluck his mortal’s sorrows away, like weeds out of a garden. He’d take them upon himself if he must, if it meant he wouldn’t cry hiding in the dark.</p><p> </p><p>His god’s hands were broad and infinitely gentle. Disturbingly gentle. It did not match what he represented. Even feather-light as they touched his neck, his chest and his arms it felt too much. He couldn't stop himself from shivering, and it wasn’t because the water was cool. He damned himself for it, as if he hadn't already been damned enough. He damned himself again when tears stung his eyes. He used to be able to hold them at bay. He became pathetically soft since he arrived in his god's house.</p><p>He tried to stay quiet, hold back the sobs, watching his tears fall in the water, praying - no, they’d find him - hoping his god wouldn’t notice. But of course he did. He wrapped his slender arms around him and he felt so miserable his heart physically ached. </p><p>“Am I hurting you?” He asked. “Are you alright?” No, never have been, not a damned day in his life. He lost hold of himself and everything spilled out before he could crush it back down. It was like the bottle burst and all the shards were cutting him. He sobbed in his god’s arms, covering and hiding his own face. He could barely breathe, but he couldn’t stop crying. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled him in his arms, in his lap, on the edge of the pool. He tried to soothe him, one arm around his back and a hand stroking his wet hair.</p><p>“Oh dear, oh dear…” He cooed. His mortal choked and coughed, trying to silence himself and failing. “It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here.” He said, thought for a moment, then continued “It’s just us here, in the entire house. You needn’t hide anything from me.”</p><p>His mortal was shaking like a leaf. His head ached and his nose hurt, and everything hurt. His eyes swam in tears and they looked so desperate.</p><p>“Oh, my dear boy, my poor boy…” He said, kissing his hair. His mortal sobbed harder.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Elysium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A muse blessed me and here it finally is! I’m kinda proud of it :3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“My dear,” his god said, “please let me see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hid his face in one of the many pillows. He was so ashamed of himself. He didn’t know what to do. He craved to be held and kissed, but it felt so wrong. He didn’t deserve it. He burned his temple. His god should despise him, not love him. He burnt temples, all so he could hear people talk about him, even if in hushed voices. He craved attention enough to offend the gods, and now that he was receiving it he was crying like a toddler. He felt so stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel his god’s hand on his arm, urging him to turn around. He refused. His god settled to kissing his bare shoulder. His heart fluttered and another wave of shame hit him when he noticed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see your eyes, my dear.” His god said, voice milk and honey, lithe fingers now tracing the back of his neck. “They are so beautiful. They remind me of the stars. I want to kiss your eyelids, so my dear boy will have good dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood quiet and still. His god frowned for a moment before getting very close, almost on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t show me your eyes, I’ll kiss you until you do.” He whispered in his hair, mischief slipping out of his voice. “I’ll kiss down along your spine.” And he traced a finger down along, slow and deliberate over each bump. “Then I’ll kiss your sides until you laugh and smile.” The traced the edge of his belly, making him squirm. “Then I’ll flip you over and kiss your tummy, and then your chest…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mortal let go of the pillow. He turned to lay on his back, and he could see his eyes, but they dared not look back at him. That was more than enough. He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on each of them. He could feel what was left of his eyelashes and his eyes jump underneath. His mortal’s whole body jumped, at the smallest touches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said, kissing the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for letting me see your beautiful eyes. And your beautiful face too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal frowned and made to move away, to hide again. “I’m not…” He began to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are.” He cut him off. “You’re such a beautiful boy. The scars don’t change that. I still want to see you and kiss you, all day long, just like when we first met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal whimpered and reflexively tried to cover his face. He let him, but he wasn’t done yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so beautiful, my dear boy.” He kissed and whispered against his knuckles. “Adonis looked like you. You could have caused at least two wars. When I first laid eyes on you, I wanted to kiss you until you were breathless! I want to kiss your lips until they are bruised, so anyone who sees you knows how loved you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal muffled a scream behind his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His god kissed him whenever he had the chance, especially when it was time to wash. He should have expected it. Gods do whatever they want. His god wanted to care for him and kiss him, apparently… Ever since he cried in the bathroom, his god seemed to take it as a seal of approval to smother him in love. He didn’t seem to realise that that was what was causing him distress in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel those damned hands scrubbing his back, and those lips on the back of his neck, leaving a peck from time to time. He stood still, looking down at the water, waiting for it to be over, trying not to react too obviously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t really complain about it. How would he even do it? Ask his god to stop treating him well? ”Stop being nice to me”? He was already absurd in his actions. Best stay quiet and not make a fool of himself further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god moved his hands to his front and touched his stomach, unintentionally making him start. His god shushed and slowly continued running his fingers over the skin, until it didn’t tickle anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good.” His god said, soft and quiet, more to himself. It made him shudder. “Can you lift an arm for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had lost a lot of mobility. He couldn’t lift his arms fully above his head, it felt like the rock-hard skin wouldn’t budge. His god helped him hold his right arm at least slightly up with his own right. The left arm circled in front of him and dealt with scrubbing his armpit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to take a deep breath and ignore the fact he was basically held in a hug. He watched the soap suds travel down his torso into the water. His arm was getting tired fast, but he pushed to keep it up without his god’s assistance. He couldn’t just never move again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good, my dear!” His god said when he was done. “What a good boy I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face </span>
  <em>
    <span>flushed</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he couldn’t breathe for a second. His god didn’t do anything either, but he needn’t look to know he was smirking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, he abused this discovery. After the bath, his mortal was taken to bed and thoroughly cuddled. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheek and his brow and his ear, and down his jaw and his neck. His mortal’s hands were on his chest between them, but he wasn’t pushing away. If his mortal didn’t like something, he made it known. He knew his mortal liked being kissed and held and lavished, but he denied himself of it. It was perhaps for the best, for if he did demand it, he’d never catch a break.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His god kissed him everywhere but his mouth. His hungry lips loved every inch of his face otherwise, and his heart ached in an addicting way. He wondered what the scarred skin felt like from someone else’s perspective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god cupped his face. He looked into his eyes with such an expression of adoration that his heart felt like it would crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My beautiful boy…” He said. He wanted to tell him to stop. His throat ached in that gross way it does before crying. “Do you like it when I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and immediately felt ashamed of his honesty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only good boys get so many kisses!” His god said, putting a peck on his chin. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushed, averting his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are. My good, good boy, whom I love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears seeped past his eyelashes before he could stop them. His god kissed them away. He didn’t deserve any of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was coming into the bedchambers, bringing clean sheets. His mortal was not there. Oh no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything hurt. He wasn’t used to moving so much anymoee. His wounds were bleeding through his bandages, on the ground. This was such a bad idea. But he already fucked up, he couldn’t go back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mortal was careful to avoid being in sight of Helios and Selene. He found him by the trail of blood. He was lucky his god was the one who found him first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat at the foot of a tree, catching his breath. His god slowly stepped closer. He looked up, with an expression that was hard to read, but defeated. He was looking up at his god, waiting for him to speak, waiting for his reaction. Maybe a demand for an explanation. Maybe some shouting for how ungrateful he was, for exposing himself to danger, to being found.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god didn’t say anything. His expression was also hard to read. He gathered him in his arms and took him back home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched his god wrap new bandages around his hands. He still hadn’t said anything. His eyes looked so sad. He felt horrible for what he had done. His god wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t care for him. He couldn’t understand why he cared, why he loved him. Nobody loved him, not even his own mother. Why would he love him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw tears fall on bandages on his arm. He looked up and saw that his mortal was crying. He reached to him, but he shoved him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear-” He tried to speak but was cut off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you do this?” His mortal demanded, almost shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” He blinked, not understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked again, stunned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m in love with you.” He said, feeling tears sting his own eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His mortal sobbed. He pulled him in his arms, where he cried and cried and cried. He started crying too.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His god was brushing his hair. It grew back in uneven, random patches. He tried to push away dark thoughts and let himself be pampered. It was hard, because they became more vehement the more he pushed them away. His mind refused to change. He doubted it ever would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god refused to stop loving him too. He kissed the back of his neck. He felt himself blush. He wondered if it was even visible. He dreaded looking in mirrors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his god wrap his arms around him and rest his head against his shoulder. He reflexively covered his blushing face. He heard and felt his god laugh. His hand reached to his own and urged his head to turn to face him. He did, cautiously sliding his hands away. His god tilted his face until he could kiss him, soft and honeyed on the lips. He kissed back back, shyly but gratefully. He didn’t deser- his god loved him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mortal’s hands twitched in his sleep. He tried to hold them, but they itched for fire. It was a compulsion. He hasn’t set anything ablaze since his divine punishment. But old habits die hard. His mortal didn’t know any other way to cleanse himself of agitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated seeing his beloved feel miserable. He thought of allowing him to set something on fire in a contained environment. Light candles, perhaps?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he suggested it to his mortal, he looked at him incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t seem like a good idea, your highness.” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not, my dear boy? It will help your craving for the time being. And you’ll get used to being in the presence of fire again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just by lighting and putting out candles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just try!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright…” His mortal said, still skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought a candle to the bed, white and stout, and a long stick. He set one end of it on fire, pinching it between his fingers, and handed the other end to his mortal to take hold. He asked him to light the candle. He didn’t move. His mortal’s face was frozen in a silently panicked expression, and so was his body. If his skin were unblemished it would be covered in goosebumps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright...” He said, gently taking hold of his mortal’s fist and guiding it to the fuse. The new flame danced as he moved the stick away, mesmerizingly swaying from side to side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blew both of the flames out and his mortal exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath. “This is so stupid…” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lighting the candles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How scared I am of a tiny damn flame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged his mortal, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “It’s not stupid, my dear boy. You’ll stop feeling scared, as you’ve stopped feeling like I shouldn’t love you. Fire can’t harm you while I am near.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” He said, still annoyed with himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you!” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too…” His mortal murmured, barely audible, blushing and hiding in the crook of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and kissed his ear, hands curling into his hair. His mortal shifted to be kissed on the lips instead, which he happily obliged. He kissed him long and sweet, but his mortal still followed after him when he broke away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His god loved him, his god loved him. It became a mantra to repeat in his mind until the dark thoughts were drowned out. It was a prayer. He couldn’t always understand why his god loved him. He found himself hard to love. But the knowledge of it brought so much peace and warmth in his weary heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he adored kissing his god. They kissed until his lips were bruised. Once he started he couldn’t stop, he wanted more, a hundred more. He was kissed and he kissed back until he was gasping for air, overwhelming his senses. His god’s lips and caresses left him light-headed. He couldn’t get enough, he wanted more kisses, more touching, more warmth, more more more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god broke away from the kiss with a sigh. He looked very pleased with himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good…” His god purred. “Such a good boy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest burnt, with love still, but a different, dirtier kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it when I call you that, huh?” His god asked, something wicked in his voice. “It’s true, you are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whined and stopped it in his throat before completely embarrassing himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let it out, my dear.” His god said, leaning down to continue kissing him. “I want to know how much you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having his voice muffled by kisses made it sound only lewder. He lied on top of him, between his legs, pressing him into the silken blankets. His god grinded his hips against his own and he gasped, a wave of heat erupting from his crotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slapped a hand over his mouth upon realising the sound he just made. His god smiled and kissed him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mortal was antsy for a different reason. He was quite proud of himself for it. He blushed before when he undressed to take a bath, but now it was even lovelier. His eyes were full of want, but he was still reluctant to ask for it. He got better at allowing it, though. He let his hands wash his hair, travel down his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hips. He drank in all the sighs and shudders and beautiful, hungry eyes. The bath ended fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked him to bed and laid him down without his robes. His mortal watched him like a hawk as he traversed their bedchamber and searched in the drawers. He could wait. Everything tastes better when you’re hungry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbed on the bed and his mortal inhaled sharply in anticipation, his eyes glossing over with lust. He crawled in his arms and kissed him, hands roaming his body. He felt him push himself closer, enticing, but he gently pushed him back on the mattress. His mortal whined and his hands grasped at his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience, dearest.” He whispered, kissing his lips one more time, then his chin, then his throat. He lavished it with attention, while a thigh pressed between his lover’s legs, coaxing out even more gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to his chest and kissed down the middle, to his sensitive tummy, which twitched with every touch. He looked up as he reached his navel, and saw his mortal looking at him through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving. He was so lovely. The god wanted more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched him reach between his legs and fondle him. He didn’t mean to shy away so suddenly, but he didn’t expect a foreign hand to feel like that. His fingertips merely brushed by and they came off soaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god shushed him, leaning to give him a soft kiss. “It’s alright,” he said, taking his hand and placing it between his legs. “Show me how you like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words made him feel dizzy. His god sat back and watched him play with himself while he oiled his fingers. It was so embarrassing to be watched, completely exposed. His heart felt like it was going to burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of his god’s fingers reached lower, teasing and entering his asshole, while his tongue licked long and slow up to his stuttering hand. It made him yelp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stop.” His god purred, his finger reaching deeper and stretching him, not giving him a chance to think. He tried his best to keep his hand moving, fast and frantic circles, while gasping at the alien sensation of being breached. Before he knew it there was a second finger, then a third, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>a fourth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh gods!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mortal was simply lovely. He loved watching him squirm and moan and helplessly arch his back. He curled his fingers and his mortal cried out deliciously, pushing his hips against his palm. His other hole dripped all over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing so good, my love.” He said. His mortal’s eyes were closed, lips parted and head thrown back on the pillows. “You’re so lovely just from my hand! How will you be when I fuck you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whimpered in response, biting his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, let it out!” He said, stroking his insides slow and languid. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You’ll spend soon, won't you? Yes, you’ll be nice and pliant, and my cock will feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good in you, you’ll beg me for more, as you do with kisses. My darling boy is insatiable, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal gritted his teeth and his legs spasmed as if shot by lightning. He squeezed so tight around his fingers, then slumped like a ragdoll on the bed. He fucked him through it, enjoying every second, then carefully removed his hand and got to coating his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He panted deeply, trying to calm down. It felt like an eternity passed since he had last done anything of the sort and the rush of pleasure made him see stars. His eyes shot open when he felt his god spread his thighs further and press the tip of his dick against his ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could speak it started filling him and his eyes rolled back. It was so big, bigger than fingers, his hole was so stretched. It felt so filthy and debauched and </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it was still going, oh gods oh gods!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, it’s aaal-right…” His god cooed in his ear, slowly and carefully sheathing himself deeper, rubbing him as encouragement. “You’re doing so, so good! You’re taking it so well! You’re such a good boy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> good boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t think clearly anymore, he was drooling. All he could focus on was how stuffed he was. When he thought he couldn’t take any further, his god’s hips came flush against his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we go!” He praised. “I knew you could do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He panted, feeling his god sit still in him while rubbing him with his thumb, fast and incessantly. He groaned, arousal coming back in full force as he got used to being stretched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please…” He whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes? Tell me, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like this?” His god asked, pulling and thrusting back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!! Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god smiled and ravished him gently. He praised him constantly. It turned him on even more than the hand on him or the cock in him. His words became filthier and hips snapped faster, but his voice stayed honey-sweet, driving him mad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, more, moan more for me,” he said, “you love it, don’t you? Your hole is so wet and greedy- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’re perfect! Good boy…! You like that? Calling you a ‘good boy’? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you squeeze me so nice. Hah, my sweet boy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t last long, coming again and his god fucking him faster and deeper. He lost count how many times he came and he forgot about everything for a while, his brain high on pleasure. His god came too eventually, pulling out and jacking off onto his stomach. He had to wash again. He thought of his god coming inside him and would have gotten turned on again if his crotch weren’t twitching almost painfully from too much attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His god cupped his face and kissed him, long and needy and almost desperate. He numbly tried to kiss him back, but he was too tired. He fought to stay awake to hear him more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, my dearest, I love you, I love you,” his god said. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal sat by the window. His skin looked hard and scarred, the same it always did, but his hair had turned almost fully white. It was gorgeous. His beloved was always beautiful, of course. He had decades to admire it, all for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humanity had forgotten about him. He was another madman who disappeared one day, putting an end to his crime spree, probably at the hands of his own fire. The gods didn’t forget him, but they thought him dead. The dead were Lord Hades’ problem. His mortal was to join his realm soon. They weren’t worried. Hades disliked the surface gods, save for a select few. Lady Persephone and Lady Hecate would definitely appreciate the prank pulled on the Olympians, combined with a love story. His mortal was simply going to move into a different house after Death came to claim him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mortal wasn’t scared one bit. He had lived a long life, much longer than he ever expected, from before he was burnt alive, and much happier. His god ensured that he was happy, that he was loved and never forgetting it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a seat next to him by the window. His mortal looked at him and smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. He kissed him back, he loved him and told him so. “My good boy.” He added. Even after a life together, his mortal still blushed.</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so so much for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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